top of page
Writer's pictureS.

Part 2, Chapter 11

Updated: Feb 28, 2020

Previous: Chapter 10 | Next: Interlude III

 

They asked me about Home; wildlife (“present”, I said, though I doubted that would help much until they got me some kind of encyclopedia), weather (mostly unremarkable), climate (even moreso), even the ruins beneath the water, which I knew very well were all empty. I was too relieved at the simple fact that I was really, actually going to be able to go back to listen very closely to what they said after.


It was, in the end, a lot of talk of convergence and Partition and oceanography and diplomacy and… latency? Other things, simple words to just vaguely refer to concepts shockingly complex when I tried to figure them out. Plans for different places and times and people.


In spite of the chaos, though, they appeared to run as a remarkably efficient machine. Fortunately, they also seemed eager enough to take charge of the investigation of the mystery-that-was-somehow-me; I got the idea that their lives were largely routine. I understood that. For now I could accept taking a step back. For now.


Not everyone jumped at the opportunity, though, so to speak. Cherie left the hall the moment the meeting seemed to fizzle out into triviality.


“Senna and I finished cleaning up the dailies for you hours ago. You don’t need me to tell you that you have everything else under control, right? No more surprises? There’s no reason for me to be here.”


“I won’t stop you, but this is a significant event and considering what you… not to mention, Cherie, I think it’s also important for you to be aware of our heritage–”


“I get it,” she cut Marcel off, and she was already leaving the room, a bag slung over her shoulder and a clip to her step. “Good night.


“‘Night, Cher,” said Senna, unperturbed. “Seeyou tomorrow.”


“...Good night,” Marcel called after her.


After walking out – and then returning from some distance down the hall, for a brief, awkward moment, to slide the doors shut behind her – I couldn’t tell where she went, fading into the background noise. Then again, I didn’t really want to know. I didn’t want to think about what I… deserved, now, but she wasn’t exactly a welcoming presence.


The rest of the Court was accommodating, though, more than I could have ever expected. Even Balancia seemed nice. Sort of.


Eventually he accompanied Valerie out of the room too, to talk about whatever they’d been planning to talk about somewhere more private. And that left just me, and Marcel, and Senna, the room hushed. Marcel said we could go somewhere I’d be able to stay while in Solace– a house, nearby. I didn’t need a lot of convincing when rest sounded so nice. As the two of us moved to leave, though, Senna elected to join us.


“Even if some others who will remain unnamed like to make busy, I don’t have anywhere else to be,” he said, simply, pleasantly.


He was constantly moving, circling me like a curious bird, but Marcel tried to keep him on track as we went. Another elevator ride down to earth, and an escape from the lobby through a back hallway I hadn’t noticed; we emerged beneath the open sky into a dim, narrow stretch of path between two buildings, radiating from the courtyard around the side of the tower. My breath fogged in the air in front of me.


I found myself twirling the thin wooden stick Cherie threw at me in, feeling out its balance without much thought. She hadn’t wanted it back; beyond that, I wasn’t sure what to do with it. Rolling it between my fingers, I felt the rough grain of the wood, the bevel where it tapered to a blunted point, touched the faintest scorch-marks.


Senna sidled up next to me as we walked behind Marcel, and my hand fell still. “Don’t take her too personally,” he whispered. “She’ll come around.”


I stared down at the stick. “I don’t think she wants to be around me.”


“She really was interested in meeting you; maybe you were just different from what she was expecting, who knows. But Cherie isn’t so bad. You shouldn’t have to leave with any hard feelings.” He clasped his hands behind his head, leaning back to exhale. “As long as you aren’t secretly some sort of monster or anything. You're not, right?”


“Um,” I stuttered. It’s hard enough to figure out what you want from me when you aren’t being cryptic, I didn’t say. “I– no?”


“Good enough for me!” he said, and backed off from his ominous interrogatory stance. Or maybe it was just my imagination. Under his breath, from just astride me, he continued, “Don’t tell her I said so, but she’s sort of going through a tough phase. You know how it is. Centennials, right?”


“Ah. These are definitely words that have extrinsic value to me, thank you.“


Senna paused for a very long second, and then he laughed. “Glad to see you’ve got a sense of humour about you! Too many don’t. Not that I’m naming any names, again, of course,” he chuckled.

Even though Marcel wasn’t acting like he was paying attention to us, I might have heard him come close to laughing, dryly, too. I exhaled, and let another mist of warm fog escape into the air.


Our shadows stretched ahead of us before we passed through a line of slender trees and out to an empty road running past the Court’s complex, lined on one side by the coarse stone and glass of the tower and on the other by a dewy, dark hillside, sloping down to the water. A few small houses and outbuildings and trails dotted the shallow hill, many covered with hanging plants and odd fixtures, some lit and clearly home to mortal people, some not; but beyond them, the view of the river was stunning. Beautiful.


There was a constant thrum in the city, and it was less noticeable out here, in the dark; but when I reached out across the water with my power and felt the lines of energy in the air, it was clear they were warped, stirred by the sheer heat of the people and the machines. Golden pools of light spilled out into the river’s obsidian.


Compared to the others we passed – many dark, some aglow, most bathed in the warmth of living people – the house we finally stopped in the grass in front of, though my expertise was more than lacking, seemed completely unexceptional. Two storeys overlooking the river down a short cobbled path, hemmed in by trees and unkempt grass. Dark, empty. The only other thing to set it apart was Marcel’s interest.


With unspoken understanding, we approached, following the short cobbled path between patches of wildflowers. He lit a flame on his fingertip as he unlocked and slid the door open with his other hand, lighting the way into the pitch-dark entryway.


“This is just near enough,” he said, “but the tract is quiet enough that you shouldn’t be disturbed. Nobody’s living here at the moment. Perfect for you to stay for a few weeks. Or however long it takes, but Lords willing.”


He gave a kind of tour as we wound through the house, checking rooms and listing them off. “Bedroom, bath, study, an attic up these stairs, kitchen– not that you’ll be in need for some of these, of course, but they’re here if you want. You know… comforts, I hope.” Surveying each room – albeit briefly, in passing – was actually, almost, maybe, a little fun. There was a bed bigger than any I’d ever seen. A small machine on the study desk was connected to the power lines outside, its purpose mysterious.


And finally, we came upon the big room adjoined to the kitchen; the commons, he called it. Even in the dark I made out the shapes of chairs and a table and at the far end, a row of tall windows, curtains partly drawn; I saw a shaded porch and a dense garden of raised planters and flowerbeds, nearly vacant, and beyond, the waterfront.


“So? What do you think?”


It was rather barren without any writing on the walls, and mostly unfurnished in a more traditional sense too, but it was cozy. Small and ordered. “I like it,” I said. “Thank you.” Probably the best I could have asked for, even if–


SLAM.


With a start I turned away from the view to see Senna across the empty bar in the kitchen, a cabinet door just slammed shut. “I’ve been feeling like something sweet,” he defensively replied to Marcel’s pointed glance. “Nothing left, though. Might have to send somebody shopping.”


He sighed, leaving Senna to his fruitless exploration as he reached out a hand, like he was about to rest it on my shoulder. Then he thought better of it. ”All goes well, we’ll have you involved in the research once I build something to start from. Until then… I’d very much appreciate it if you didn’t go wandering off. Please.”


“I just have to… to stay here?” I asked. “Marcel, I– I appreciate this, and I could use a little rest, but I want to help. This is important to me. I want to check the library again, at least, just… just to see.”


“I know, and we’ll work that out for you as soon as possible,” he interjected gently. “But believe me when I say you won’t be able to just dive into what we do here. I’ll be digging through our archives personally – it’s mostly very dull work, anyway – and you have my word that you’ll know as soon as anything turns up. It shouldn’t be long.”


“Okay, okay,” I conceded. I lowered myself blindly into one of the chairs, caught off guard by how far I sank into it before finding my balance. The book I’d taken – borrowed – rested heavy over my heart, shifting uneasily.


A small smile flashed across his face, but a moment later it was gone. He turned to Senna, leaning casually on the counter, and rapped his knuckles against it, once. “I’ll catch up with you, Senna. There’s one more thing before I get going.”


“Oh. No problem at all, boss,” Senna took the hint of a dismissal and raised a finger at me. “See you around, you bizarre enigma, you.”


“Yeah, probably.”


He tittered and retraced his way down the dark hallway, and a few seconds later I heard the echo of the door sliding open as he took a step outside. Marcel, meanwhile, leaned stiffly into one of the other chairs next to me.


I was suddenly very acutely aware of the fact that this was the first time we’d really been alone together, since… everything happened, that first day. But everything was fine. No reason at all to be worried about this, surely.


He cleared his throat, and then pointed to my neck, tilting his head. “What is that, if you don’t mind my asking?”


Confused, for a second, I reached up with one hand and felt it– the locket chain, metal cold against my skin, partially nestled beneath the scarf wrapped around my shoulders. “Oh, I… found it, on the beach,” I said. I was already so acclimated to its weight I barely even felt it. “But I don’t think it’s from Home. I guess I just… kept it?”


His head tilted a little further to the side, an odd look on his face as he looked over the metal. “...What’s wrong?”


“Sorry. Nothing,” he said, meeting my eyes again. “It was actually just one more thing… I know you’ve said that you don’t remember exactly what caused you to be expelled from wherever you were, or how exactly you ended up here, but one more time I need you to try and remember, okay?” I swallowed. “...Is there anything you can tell me about that? Maybe the time you were drifting at sea. Anything at all.”


Involuntarily I squinted, feeling the heat behind my eyes and in my head from suddenly being forced to remember all that. I’d already told him everything I could, and trying to dig through the fog wasn’t any easier. “There was rumbling, a bright light, an explosion… that’s all, Marcel. I’m not lying.”


“Any particular feelings? Any weird sensations in the fields, or–”


“A lot is weird. That’s not very specific.”


“Hm.” He thought for a few seconds. “I guess what I’m talking about – strictly hypothetically, I mean – it’s somewhat difficult to describe. At least to someone who doesn’t already understand what I’m talking about.”


“Well, that does include me,” I said. Not that he was exactly helping, but maybe that wasn’t my place. He sighed again. “Why does it even matter, if you already know where I came from? And if we’re already figuring out a way back…”


“...No, you’re right, it doesn’t. It’s fine.” He very abruptly stood up before pausing again, his tone softening. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I should even be bothering you with this. Don’t worry about it. Someone will be here for you soon. Until then, I suppose… have a good night, Adeline.”


That didn’t sit well with me – it was just on the tip of my tongue, that something was off, that he wasn’t telling me everything – but he was already standing up, moving to leave again. After losing my words for a moment, I finally called, “Okay. I’ll try.”


He departed. The door shut. And thus was I left alone, in a dark, empty, unfamiliar house. Nobody to follow and nothing to do but wait.


I’d gotten used to doing a lot of waiting, back home. Waiting for the sunrise, or the sunset. For an egg to hatch or a tree to bear fruit or the tides to rise just slightly to paint the sands in a new way I’d never seen before. Just waiting for ink to dry. And somehow, I suddenly felt discontent with that.


Then again, in the past few days – even the past few hours – I’d received more stimulation than I could remember in the entirety of my life before that, so maybe I was still reeling a little bit. Only natural.


I dropped the stick on the table with a soft clatter and stood up, walking over to the window again and sweeping aside the curtains for a perfectly unobstructed view. On the waterfront and in the bright windows in the distance, people moved about busily. A little sail-less boat drifted down the river, only illuminated by a single point of fire, burning against the wood and the water.


A few wisps of dark cloud still blotted out stretches of the sky, but in the deep, dark space between, the stars were twinkling. They were unconcerned with me, but at least they were there. I made out faint lines, shapes, constellations; their positions were wrong, and more than that just seemed off. Too many in some places, too few in others. When I tilted my head, though, a part of the sky was at least still recognizable.


Wings and a long, long tail makes the serpent, I thought to myself. I traced one finger across the glass, carving out sections of the night sky. Straining to remember the patterns and their stories. Below them, the worldbearer, twisted into itself, with a crown upon its heads. Three pillars, eight titans, nine rings and in between, the guiding star. And countless others…


Come to think of it, I realized I wasn’t sure where their names came from. Maybe Marcel and the others had different ones; I decided I would call them by mine anyway, though. Another rock to cling to.


Then the clouds that remained parted, and the sky was gently flooded even deeper with silver light. The moon. It was huge in the sky, clear enough that I could see the scratches and dark seas on its surface, all between stark-white fields aflame.


My eyes screwed shut for a moment as I leaned forward to rest my forehead against the frigid glass, my raised hand surely smudging it, hair falling across my face. Then I opened them again. Wearily I turned and put my back against the window and slid down until I was sitting on the floor, much closer to solid ground.


With my knees pulled to my chest, I slipped the book from the library out of my jacket and appraised its worn cover once again. As my finger slid against the grain, I noticed something I hadn’t noticed before. A small geometric figure, an insignia, inked and etched into one corner of the cover. I was sure I didn’t recognize it, but I still felt my heart pound. I didn’t know why.


I was already sure that I wouldn’t be sleeping tonight; and that was fine.


So I opened the book and read by the moon.


 

THE DOMINION OF THE SUN QUEEN

Original manuscript, untranslated. From recovered texts by Lord M. I. Leto Iora (MTR) and others, collected and annotated by C. Crane, 3•741.


I.


Once upon a time, long after the sky was split open and the universe freed from the tyranny of the bestial TITANS which once claimed to rule it, there was a realm hung amongst the stars. Its cities were points of purest, radiant light, rising from a deep and endless ocean. Its voyagers were carried on crystal sails across the dark, between the waves of sunlight and shadow. Its people were pure of body and heart and feared no hunger, nor sickness, nor death.


And this realm, seated highest in the universe, was second only to its creator, they who gave it shape and form before the living rose to inherit it. They, IO, or JANEVEN, or ADONAIS, who was called many names but had none of their own, the aspect of water and of the spirit, third of three. Io guided the tapestry of the distant heavens, the greatest of the immortals, their power and wisdom unmatched. So it was for a thousand thousand years.


Under this guidance the people of the stars, who would live for a thousand thousand years more, knew no strife. But the boundless sea was not empty. There were other peoples, borne not of clay and lightning, but of blood and tears; and, from their origins through suffering, they knew little else. In the darkness between the havens where starlight shone, they warred and died. Without knowledge, they were ignorant of their place in the universe. Without enlightenment, they fought each other with fire and steel to claw their way nearer a salvation that could not come.


The people of the stars, whose lives were unfettered by earthly greed and hatred, saw the others, scattered and huddled across the ether in-between. And although they wanted for nothing, being masters of their own eternal realm, they glimpsed the world as it was cast in shadow and saw space left to grow.


Thus, the domain of Io’s name grew to its natural reaches, light penetrating the depths of the universe; fire and steel were turned outward, rather than inward. The empires crystallized everywhere in Io’s sight, and their leaders, who were the ASH LORDS, came to rule great dominions of prosperity, and to share that glory with the world.


But the Lords and Emperors remained second even to Io, whose life was without end and whose power was an ocean without depth or horizon. And among their number was one above almost all others: the SUN QUEEN, who, over time, had destroyed all who rivalled her. She was great and terrible, her tower highest in the stars, her court eternally loyal, the realm she cut from the universe vast and bountiful. Still, however, she found herself discontent. For so long as she was beneath the will of Io, her control could not be absolute; and she came to resent even her own cousins from the depths of her avarice.


She resolved upon a plan, to take her loyal lessers – three in number, the Seer, the Mender, the Hunter – and flee from the empires of the stars, to claim the universe for her own from a new seat of undying power, to spite the good Lords, and to wrest her place from those she deemed lesser.


So the Sun Queen wielded her twin swords of day and night, one black as cinder, one brilliant alabaster, and with a heavy strike fell to slay Io upon their throne.


...


 

Previous: Chapter 10 | Next: Interlude III


9 views

Recent Posts

See All

Comments


bottom of page